One is the Loneliest Number
by idontlikegravy
Summary: Ten years after coming out of stasis, Dave Lister doesn't seem to have aged a day, and Rimmer's starting to ask questions...


**One is the Loneliest Number**

_Disclaimer: None of it's mine, not one little bit, I'm just having some fun._

**A/N: **_This is set about ten years after Dave woke from stasis, but it's AU from the end of series 6, so there's none of that whole 'Dave is his own father' thing, nanites didn't eat and then resurrect the ship, fake Kochanski stayed in her own reality and Rimmer is still a smeghead. The boys have successfully found the Dwarf and things are as they should be. Until…_

The Cat's screams could be heard echoing along the corridor five minutes before he came bursting into the bunk room. Rimmer glanced at him in the mirror before returning to examining his reflection. Lister looked up from the magazine he was reading, concerned about his friend.

"Cat, what's wrong?" he asked.

"Something terrible's happened, bud!" the Cat wailed, panic raising his voice by nearly an octave. Rimmer turned and raised an eyebrow.

"Did one of your suits shrink in the wash again?" he said dryly. Cat gave him a filthy look before turning back to Lister.

"Look!" he cried, pointing to his head. Lister sat up and stared intently at Cat's head for a moment before shrugging.

"Nope, sorry, I can't see what's wrong," he said.

"Are you blind?! Look, there's grey!" the Cat said, gesturing furiously toward his temple. Lister stood and squinted closely at Cat's hair. "This is a disaster! What'll I do?"

"For smeg's sake, Cat, it's only one hair! I'm amazed you even noticed," Lister said, trying to stifle a laugh. Rimmer snorted derisively.

"It's an inevitable part of getting old. Get used to it, you ridiculous feline."

"Wah! You mean it'll get worse? Oh my God! Somebody get me a hairstylist!" the Cat wailed before running from the room in search of hair dye.

"Rimmer, have a heart, man. It's not like you're ever gonna get older," Lister pointed out as he returned to his bunk.

"And thanks for reminding me. It's not easy being dead, you know."

"Smeg off, Rimmer. Now you've got your hard-light bee, you can touch again, with the added bonus you're practically indestructible," Lister said.

The two lapsed back into silence, and Lister returned his attention to the women's mud wrestling article. He was so engrossed that he didn't notice that Rimmer was staring at him with a thoughtful look on his face.

"You know, you don't have any grey," Rimmer pointed out, stepping closer to his bunkmate.

"Good genes, I guess. Wouldn't know, would I?" Lister replied absently.

"Oh, that's right. You were found under a pool table."

Lister nodded noncommittally, his attention still on the article. Rimmer sat on a chair and continued to regard Lister. Eventually Lister became aware of Rimmer's gaze and he looked up.

"What?"

"When were you found in that box?" Rimmer asked.

Lister suddenly didn't like the direction this was taking, and he shifted uncomfortably in the bunk.

"When I was a baby."

"Yes, but when? What year?"

_Smegging hell, _thought Lister. He'd hoped they wouldn't need to have this conversation for a long time to come. He could dodge this time, but no matter how stupid he was sooner or later Rimmer would start asking questions. Sooner or later he'd need to know the truth.

Dave knew it was inevitable the day that he awoke from stasis after three million years and he was left with only Rimmer and Holly for company (or so he'd thought at the time). It was one of the reasons he'd been so annoyed about having his bunkmate resurrected as a hologram. Not the _primary_ reason, but certainly one of them.

*-*

There had been a close call in the early days, when the Cat was still too self-centred to spend any real time with Lister. Dave spent more time with Rimmer then, and they were playing the Locker Game. Lister was too busy laughing his arse off because a pile of women's underwear had just fallen through Rimmer, so Arnold took the opportunity to take another turn.

"I want that one," Rimmer said, pointing at locker 169.

"Oh, Rimmer, let's stop now. Even I can only watch you humiliated so many times."

"Open it," Rimmer demanded.

"But I'm smegging bored!"

"I'm sorry, am I keeping you from tea with the Queen? I thought not. So open it!"

"Okay, but you don't want that one. Seriously, Rimmer, I know whose locker that is, and all you'll get is a nasty surprise," Lister advised. Rimmer raised an eyebrow.

"Indeedy? I get your game, matey. There's something really good in there, and you want it for yourself. Open it!" Rimmer demanded again. Lister shrugged, knowing it was no good trying to convince him. Dave put the chisel to the lock and struck down with the mallet.

As the door swung open, Rimmer peered inside. There, propped against the side of the locker, was a large medieval looking sword. Rimmer frowned, disappointed.

"What kind of psychopath would bring a smegging sword aboard? Whose locker is this?" Rimmer asked incredulously. Lister didn't answer. Fortunately, that was when Holly announced that the post had arrived.

*-*

The next close call had come some years later when Kryten had been playing with some of the experiments in the science lab. Lister had been badly burned when he knocked over a beaker of acid. By the time Rimmer reached the medical bay, he was completely healed. Rimmer readily accepted the explanation that Lister had only spilled water on himself and left, muttering something about 'trusting Doctor Bog-bot.'

"Thanks for not denying my explanation, Kryten," Lister said, turning to the droid.

"I knew you must have your reasons, sir. But I know what I saw. You were badly injured. How is that possible?"

And that was the day Kryten discovered the truth.

*-*

"So, what year were you found in that box?" Rimmer pressed.

Lister sighed, weighing up his options, as Rimmer continued to stare at him, waiting for an answer. Rimmer would find out the truth, one day, and he'd be monumentally smegged off at Lister for lying all that time when he did. They potentially had all eternity together, Lister, Rimmer and Kryten, and Dave wanted it to be as pleasant a hell as possible. Lister made a decision and answered Rimmer's question.

"I can't remember the year exactly, Rimmer. But I was twenty-five when I joined Red Dwarf. Do the math."

*-*

_Ten Years Earlier_

"_How long was I in stasis, Hol?"_

"_Three million years."_

_Lister shook his head as he processed Holly's words. He'd thought himself oh so very clever when he joined Red Dwarf. He'd carefully crafted the character of Dave Lister, space bum, and signed on to the lowly position of Third Technician. The role offered no chance for advancement, but Dave Lister didn't want to rise up through the ranks. He was content to be the lowest of the low._

_All he wanted to do was hide out on the deep space haulage runs between Jupiter and Earth and stay out of the way of the others until he had no choice. He was sick and tired of the Game but he knew he couldn't stay away forever. After all, there can be only One._

_Lister nearly laughed aloud at the thought, /i_Only One_i. Were there any left? Was he the One? He didn't think so; he thought he'd feel different somehow if he'd won the Prize. But if the human race was extinct, if Earth had blown up, then surely even an Immortal couldn't survive that._

_Three million years. The number had freaked even him out at first, despite being four thousand years old before he went into stasis. Three million was difficult to comprehend, even for an Immortal._

*-*

**The Beginning**


End file.
